The 13th Destiny_Heaven's Deadliest Sign

by Roger David Francis

  “How much do you owe?” Beth asked, wondering if she ought to offer to lend her some of her winnings. The poor woman had dark circles under her eyes.

  “Two thousand one hundred pounds and they want it all back.” She gave a small dry sob. “I only borrowed three hundred, it’s the interest, you see.” She bent down and picked up her handbag. With trembling fingers she pulled out her purse and handed Beth a crumpled twenty pound note. “I’ll do it, as soon as Rod leaves for work in twenty minutes I’ll make the call.” She smiled suddenly, “Don’t look so worried, it won’t be the end of the world if I lose twenty pound.”

  “Oh, God, I should have asked first, I need to know your star sign.” Beth felt herself go cold. She’d led the poor woman on, made her think it was a done deal, and forgot to ask the important question.

  “I’m a Virgo.”

  Beth relaxed, that was fine. Another one she could cross off her list. She told herself she hadn’t forced Fiona to give her twenty pounds, the woman had been an eager and willing participant. Beth wrote Shandra’s name and phone number down and said, “You will let me know what happens, won’t you?”

  “Of course, you’ll be the first to know.” Fiona’s smile was sickly, and walking back to her house Beth had the uncomfortable feeling that she’d taken the woman’s last twenty pounds from her. She stopped half way up the road undecided. If she had any decency she would go back and return the money, it would that be the right thing to do. She could pay it out of her own winnings, couldn’t she? No, a little voice whispered in the back of her head, it doesn’t work like that, leave it, what will be will be.

  The pleasure of winning five hundred pounds was already beginning to wear off and Beth was starting to feel resentful. She’d been greedy, willingly agreeing to find eleven other punters to gamble their money on her say so because she’d had a moment of luck. It suddenly felt tacky as if she’d become embroiled in something a little bit sleazy.

  Thinking about it Beth realised that Shandra had conned her. She’d led her to believe that she’d been first to phone up, the first to get a free reading. Now Beth realised she probably said that to everyone and out of a hundred customers there was a fair chance that one person’s wish would come true, like hers, and that would be all Shandra needed to kick off the chain mail effect. One person to do her dirty work, and it just happened to be her. It was a good scam but not one she was willing to participate in now she’d worked it out.

  So she’d refuse to do it, after all what could the old woman do? She couldn’t take the five hundred pound win off her. Beth smiled to herself, relieved.

  Jason watched his mum walking up the road. It was Saturday, he didn’t have much homework and he should have been happy. He really had wanted to camp out with Liam but there was a problem.

  He’d woken up in the early hours of the morning horrified, his stomach heaving, and before he could stop himself he’d thrown up all over his pillow and the cotton sheet he was lying on. He’d lain still for a few minutes disgusted with the stench of vomit in his nostrils. As quietly as he could he’d gathered the sheet and pillow case up and took them downstairs. It was no good just putting them in the washing machine; his mum would see them, so he’d pulled out a black bin bag and stuffed them inside including his t-shirt. He’d crept to the back door and pulled the bolts across. It was cold outside and he’d shivered as he stuffed the bag at the bottom of the wheelie bin. He was about to close the lid when his foot had kicked something.

  Bending down he could see the remains of a bird lying next to the bin. It looked like a black crow. He’d dry heaved when he’d realised its eyes had been pecked out. He couldn’t leave it there for his mum to find, it wouldn’t be right, but if he dropped it in the dustbin his mum might decide she needed to bury it further down and then she’d find his vomit covered sheets.

  A black plastic bag lay nearby so Jason had gone back into the kitchen to get the broom and pan. His eyes had watered with disgust as he’d shovelled the revolting remains of the crow into the bag. Tears had run down his face. This wasn’t fair, he’d thought. All he’d done was have a bit too much to drink and now he was kneeling on the cold concrete in the middle of the night picking up bits of a crow’s body parts. He’d shuddered in revulsion as his fingers had closed on a feathered leg bone which had become detached from the bird’s body. When he’d finished he’d almost staggered back into the kitchen.

  Hadn’t he heard somewhere that finding a dead black bird on your doorstep brought you bad luck? Jason shook his head, worse luck for the crow, he thought.

  Thank God he hadn’t woken his mum up. He couldn’t risk her finding out, she’d rush him to the doctors and he didn’t want that, he’d have to admit what he’d done.

  He’d crept back up the stairs, grabbed a fresh sheet and pillow case from the airing cupboard then had a quick wash down in the bathroom because he didn’t dare put the shower on and risk the noise waking his mother up.

  Later, lying back in bed, Jason thought about the half a bottle of whisky he’d consumed, alcohol Liam had stolen from Rod, his dad. It had seemed like a good idea, made him feel grown up. And Liam had promised him if they camped out for the night there’d be plenty more booze for them to enjoy. All he could remember was that it had been a laugh, everything had been funny. But of course it hadn’t been, he’d been reduced to a naughty child who’d eaten too many sickly sweets, throwing up the contents of his stomach.

  Even then he’d still felt sick, dreading he might vomit again, having to keep swallowing hard. He was finding it difficult to get the image of the mangled eyeless bird out of his mind. His head had banged like someone was hitting him with a hammer and he was ashamed to remember the tears of self pity that had blurred his eyes and turned him into a blubbering wreck.

  Liam had assured him he’d just sleep off the drinking binge but it seemed his friend had been wrong. Maybe Liam was made of sterner stuff than him but he couldn’t remember ever feeling so ill. He’d rolled over and retched; though nothing had spilled out of his mouth, his throat had remained dry and prickly.

  I’m never drinking again, Jason had thought as he’d huddled under the clean sheets, never, never, never.

  And then something odd had happened. Jason tried to recall the events but he couldn’t be sure how much of it had been brought on by the excess of alcohol or even if he’d dreamt it.

  His stomach had rolled again and he’d crawled out of bed and gone into the bathroom.

  His mum’s bedroom door remained closed and Jason was grateful for that. He could only imagine the lecture he’d get if she found out he’d been drinking. It was apparently one of the seven deadly sins along with smoking and not doing your homework. She needn’t worry though, thought Jason, he didn’t think he’d ever touch another drop of alcohol again. That’s why he couldn’t go camping with Liam. The last thing he wanted was for his friend to think he couldn’t handle his booze.

  For a few moments he’d dry heaved, standing poised over the rim of the toilet but it seemed he was done after all.

  Creeping back along the landing he’d stopped at the top of the stairs when he noticed a strange light that seemed to be shimmering under the front door. Frowning, he peered down trying to make sense of it. The light was changing colour as it moved across the bottom of the door.

  He’d wanted to ignore it and go back to bed, forget he’d ever been stupid enough to get pissed but the light wasn’t going away; if anything it seemed to be getting brighter.

  He was determined not to wake his mum up. He knew he looked pale and sickly and he thought he could still smell vomit on his skin, his mum would sniff out his crime in two seconds so instead he began making his way down the stairs. He wasn’t sure why he was creeping; holding his breath, but there was something about the light he didn’t like, something unnatural.

  The front door was directly in front of him and now the light had changed direction and appeared to be glowing through the frosted glass.

 
A burglar? Surely not. Thieves didn’t announce their presence by shining coloured lights into people’s properties. It was three o’clock in the morning so it wasn’t little kids messing around either. It crossed his mind that it might be Liam playing a joke on him but he dismissed the idea. Apart from the fact that when Liam had left his house his friend had been so bladdered he could hardly stagger down the road to his house, Jason didn’t think it was the sort of practical joke Liam would play; he’d be too concerned that Jason’s mum would catch him.

  Now Jason was standing in the hallway, a few feet away from the front door. Car lights, he thought. Fancy coloured ones shining on the window. He wished they’d go away, looking at the swirling colours was making his headache worse. He could just go back to bed and forget it, it was a tempting thought. What he couldn’t do was open the door without knowing what was behind it.

  He’d slipped into the living room and moved the curtain aside a few inches, peering outside. Nothing. That was strange, it was also scary, it meant someone was standing right up against the front door with a torch and shining it into his hallway.

  Jason crept out back into the hallway and stifled a gasp. The light had disappeared and something was scratching at the bottom of the door. Very slowly he’d lifted the metal top of the letterbox and peered through but all he was met with was darkness and he’d realised he was looking at the black brush built into the letterbox. The scratching continued and he’d begun to think it was a neighbour’s cat, it sounded like claws being dragged downwards.

  He’d almost cried out then when a white envelope shot through the letterbox. Jumping back, he’d stood jittering from one foot to the other staring at it. The scratching stopped and Jason thought he heard footsteps hurrying away.

  His head had banged with a sickening thump and he’d felt himself shivering with fright. His mind had screamed that something was wrong, that something very bad was going on but gradually he’d felt himself growing calmer. It was just an envelope. It wasn’t a bomb, or a firecracker, it was just an envelope.

  He’d bent down and picked it up. There was no writing on the front and the flap hadn’t been stuck down. Inside was a single sheet of thin white paper. Written in large capital letters in pencil was one word; “DESTINY”

  Whatever it meant Jason didn’t want to know. He’d screwed the paper and envelope up, pushed it to the bottom of the pedal bin in the kitchen and gone back upstairs to bed.

  Chapter 3

  Sunday morning, a chance to grab that extra hour she always needed, but not this morning. Six thirty and Beth was already halfway down her third cup of coffee.

  She hadn’t slept well last night. She’d bullied her friend, Abby and her neighbour Fiona into gambling twenty pounds, money they could ill afford, and now she felt guilty. It was time to put a stop to the nonsense. She intended to phone Shandra, explain she couldn’t find the other nine people, offer to send her the forty pounds and that would be the end of it. She felt better after making the decision. It was too early yet though. Jason would be in bed for several more hours so she could relax and read a book or browse through eBay for a good second hand settee.

  Beth settled in her favourite armchair in the living room and opened her computer on her lap.

  It was a quarter to seven and the phone rang.

  Beth stared at it, a hot sickly twisting in her stomach. Nobody phoned at quarter to seven Sunday morning unless it was bad news.

  Was it her dad? Had he finally had the stroke he’d been warned about if he didn’t stop smoking? She’d spoken to him two days ago, he’d been cheerful, happy, his new hobby, bowling keeping him busy. Or maybe it was her sister, Lydia, something had happened, she’d finally left her cheating husband Charles, and she needed somewhere to go. The last time she’d heard from her sister, Lydia had been convinced Charles was playing around. These thoughts ran round her head while the phone continued to ring. It sounded louder than normal as if the person on the other end wanted to make sure she heard it.

  Beth placed her computer on the side table next to her chair, taking her time. Whoever it was might get fed up waiting, or better still, it was a wrong number. She imagined being asked by a computerised voice if she needed double glazing and a spurt of hot anger rose inside her, and then she thought, why wasn’t the phone going into message mode? It usually did after six rings. She snatched the receiver up.

  “Hello?”

  She could hear laboured breathing and then a voice croaked, “Hello my dear. This is a courtesy call just to remind you I’m waiting for you to fulfil your end of the bargain. You need to give me nine more star signs.”

  “Shandra?” Beth could barely believe it. “Why are you calling me so early?”

  “Is it early? I’ve been up all night.”

  Beth frowned. Pressing the phone up close to her ear she could hear what sound like banging and shouting going on in the background, the woman had probably got the television on too loud. She wanted to tell her to plug her hearing aid in but of course she didn’t. What was the woman playing at phoning her up this time of the morning? It wasn’t right and Beth was beginning to feel annoyed. The damn woman was hounding her. Settee or no settee, she was beginning to wish she’d never got involved with her.

  Beth was starting to believe the old woman was just some cranky old witch, hell bent on drumming up business and certainly didn’t care who she inconvenienced. She sighed. The woman was becoming a pest. No doubt physic business was lucrative at twenty pounds a go and Shandra didn’t want to see a good thing slip through her fingers, but it didn’t give the old woman the right to phone her at this unearthly hour on Sunday morning.

  The more Beth thought about it, the more she believed she was right and what had happened had simply been coincidence. I mean, she thought, if you told the same thing to enough people it was bound to happen eventually.

  She said, “I was going to call you, Shandra. I can’t find anyone else. You’re lucky I managed to find two people willing to gamble yesterday afternoon, so give me your address and I’ll send you a postal order for forty pounds.” Beth was pleased; her voice had sounded brisk and businesslike, now she was taking control of the situation and ending the nonsense.

  There was a wheezing sound on the end of the phone and Beth thought the woman was laughing but when she spoke her voice was sharp. “Oh, no, my dear, it’s too late for that. We made a deal. I gave you what you asked for, didn’t I?”

  “Well, yes, but...”

  “No buts, my dear. You and I entered into an agreement. Now, the hours are ticking down, you have until seven o’clock Tuesday evening, which gives you just over sixty hours to complete your task.” Her tone turned wheedling. “It’s not as if I haven’t given you enough time, is it, my dear? And I know you’re an enterprising young woman, look how you dealt with that rascal of a husband.”

  Beth froze. She’d told no-one about Lawrence, he was part of her old life. Suddenly she was angry.

  She said in a tight voice, “I can’t find anyone willing to pay twenty pounds; it’s too big a gamble. It’s over.”

  “Not until I say so. You really don’t get it do you, my dear? I’m calling the shots, not you; you’ll do as I say.”

  Beth realised she was sweating. She needed to try and stay calm. “I’ll tell you what I’m prepared to do,” she told Shandra flatly, “I’ll send you sixty pounds for the three readings, I think that’s fair.”

  There was silence for a few moments and Beth could hear the old woman breathing heavily. She had a sudden urge to laugh, it was so ridiculous. She imagined Shandra, hunched up in a big worn armchair with her notebook and pen crossing names off a list.

  Eventually the old crackly voice said, “You’re forgetting I made your wish come true; you’ve got the five hundred pounds you asked for because of me.”

  Beth’s eyebrows shot up. “So?” And then she did laugh. “Oh, I get it, you want more?” She felt a twinge of relief, so it was just about money after all.


  “This isn’t about money.” Shandra said almost primly.

  “Of course it is. No, I’m sorry, I’m done with it. I’m a busy person and I don’t have time for this nonsense.” Beth was glad to hear how firm she sounded. “So where do I send the money?” She waited for a reply and it took her a few moments to realise the phone had gone dead.

  “Charming,” she muttered. She felt as if a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. The old girl seemed to have got the message that she wasn’t playing her game anymore. If she couldn’t be bothered to tell Beth her address then she didn’t deserve the money. Beth hoped that would be the last she heard from her. She’d give Abby and Fiona their money back and there’d be no harm done.

  She settled back down in her armchair and began scrolling down the hundreds of settees for sale. When the phone rang again she almost sprang to the phone and snatched the receiver up.

  “Nine more star signs, that’s the deal we entered into. It’s begun now and you can’t stop it. I’ve been more than fair, kept my side of the bargain now it’s up to you.” The line went dead.

  You’ve got to be kidding, Beth thought. Now she wished she’d asked the woman what she meant when she’d said there would be consequences. What was Shandra intending to do, shout at her down the phone, bad mouth her on Facebook? Beth realised she had no idea where the woman lived; she hadn’t even had the sense to look up her telephone number. She typed the first five numbers, the area code, into Google and blinked several times. Nothing came up. So she’d put the wrong number in. She did it again carefully, taking the number directly off the leaflet. She’d assumed the woman was fairly local; no-one would do a leaflet drop a hundred miles from their home.

  Still nothing came up. Apparently there was no such number, it didn’t exist.

  She tried again, this time widening her search to include Scotland and Northern Ireland. Still nothing. It wasn’t possible and Beth’s mind shied away from what it might mean.